Over the next few days, Neya divided her time between sparring with Lan, catching up with Mat and learning the Aiel ways. The man who had first brought her to the Wise Ones, Azim, a Taardad Aiel of the Far Aldazar Din warrior society and Bloody Water Sept, had taken her under his wing on her third day in Rhuidean, coaching her in Aiel etiquette and instructing her in their many customs. She knew the man was infatuated with her and she thought it best to make it clear from the start that the feeling wasn't reciprocated, but Azim had laughed it off, claiming that the chase was half the fun anyway. He proved to be extremely stubborn, but she couldn't give in, no matter how much she might want to. He was tall, of course, and rather handsome, with short, dark red hair and an irresistible smile.
But she had to maintain her pretense with Natael. And in any case, she couldn't risk getting too close to him. Lanfear had made no appearance since the day she had abandoned Neya in the Waste, but who knew when she would be back? She could turn up at any moment. Neya didn't want to put anyone in unnecessary danger; the Light knew that there was enough of that to go around without adding a Forsaken in the mix. The Waste was an incredibly dangerous place. She had lost count of the number of people who had been injured in her short time here. She had taken these opportunities to attempt to channel, but when the Wise Ones weren't flat refusing – that's to say when they weren't around – she still couldn't embrace the Source, no matter how hard she tried, not matter how dire the injury. It was all very frustrating.
She hadn't talked to Moiraine again, had in fact been avoiding the Aes Sedai altogether. She didn't need another lecture about the necessity of her going to the White Tower. She hadn't seen much of Egwene, either. The Wise Ones were keeping her busy, day and night it seemed. Rand spent most of his time discussing with the clan chiefs and practicing the sword and spear. She even sparred with him a couple of times. They rarely talked, however, and when they did, most of their conversations concerned whatever scraps of information Elan or Lanfear might have given her regarding the other Forsaken and their whereabouts.
Slowly but steadily, she even managed to get a little closer to Natael. Rand had decided that they should share a room, just the two of them, to avoid any suspicion, although they didn't actually share a bed, of course. Rand said he trusted Neya to keep an eye on him.
The one-time Forsaken usually chatted with her in a relatively cordial way, at least until he grew bored and sulky again. They talked about the Age of Legends, about music. He was more open than Elan had been about the other Forsaken, often spilling poison on his former cronies with fierce bitterness. When they were seen together in public, he was surprisingly good at playing the charming lover. She had thought that alone would deter Azim in his endeavours to woe her, but the Aiel only seemed more determined. He was disdainful of the gleeman and joked that she would become bored with him soon enough, when she realised she wanted a real man. Men, Neya thought wonderingly. Love them or hate them, you can never understand them.
The Aiel often demanded that the gleeman play for them in the evenings, after the heat of the day had subsided, and Natael sometimes consented to entertain them with a few songs, seemingly reluctant, although he always ended up playing late into the night.
It was good to be around people again. Neya made a point of enjoying herself as much as possible. There was no telling what tomorrow would bring, especially with the kind of company she kept. If she'd learned anything in her few years of existence, it was that good things never lasted.
She woke up in the night, sweating despite the cold. Something was wrong.
She thought she heard a faint growl, but she couldn't make out its origin in the absolute darkness of the room. Natael was muttering in his sleep, on the other side of the room; she could hear him trashing in his blankets. The growl intensified for a moment, as if whatever was making the noise had moved closer to her. The room reeked of burned sulphur. The first thing that came to her mind was that it had to be some kind of Shadowspawn. But why wasn't it making a move? It seemed to simply stand there. Her practice sword lay just beside the bed, but how was she supposed to fight whatever it was if she could not see it? Should she scream, cry for help? Would Natael be able to get rid of it if he was awake? She dared not move. She simply lay there, barely breathing, waiting for whatever would come next.
Nothing happened. After a few minutes she felt the thing – things? – shift in the shadows and a moment later the growling faded away completely. The sharp, unpleasant smell remained, however. More time passed before she could make herself move. Slowly, carefully, she made her way to Natael's cot, not daring to light a candle. It might attract unwanted attention to the fact that she was awake.
She crouched next to the gleeman. "Jay?" she whispered. "Wake up. Natael!" she said a little louder, placing her hand where she thought his shoulder should be. He woke up with a start. A ball of light abruptly appeared near his face and she blinked rapidly in the sudden glare.
"Darkness within! What are you doing?" he muttered irritatingly. "It's the middle of the night!"
"Thank you for pointing that out, I hadn't noticed," she told him wryly. "There was… something… in the room. It's gone now, I think," she went on, "but it could come back. Can't you smell it?"
She saw his nose twitch once. His eyes widened in horror. "Darkhounds," he murmured. His face had gone pale and she heard him swallow distinctly. They heard footsteps coming from outside. "Move," he commanded, pushing her out of his way as he got up. "Stay behind me," he ordered again. How sweet, Neya thought amusedly.
Rand stepped into the room, bringing more light with him. He looked dishevelled, although his face remained impassive. "Oh, good. You're both alright," he said in a low voice. Suddenly his eyes focused on something on the floor. Large paw prints. They seemed to be etched into the stone. She stared at them in wonder. "Darkhounds," Rand said matter-of-factly, confirming Natael's fear. "Did you destroy them?" he asked the gleeman.
The older man shook his head slowly. "I didn't even see them. She just awakened me," he explained, gesturing toward Neya. Rand turned to face her, eyeing her expectantly.
"I heard something growl but I couldn't make out anything. It left after a few minutes," she told him.
Rand studied her a moment longer, then shrugged. "Well, they're gone now. I've handled the others. I'll deal with these too, if they come back." He focused on the prints once more and, a second later, they were gone. Without another word, he turned on his heels and departed.
In a daze, she stood staring at the now-smooth floor for a long time. "Are you alright?" Natael asked suddenly. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She'd forgotten he was there. "You're trembling."
Neya blinked once, coming out of her trance. She cleared her throat roughly. "I'm fine. Just cold," she muttered. "I'll go back to bed now. Good night," she told him. She settled back on the bed. Natael was still standing in the middle of the room, lost in contemplation. "It would be easier to sleep without the light on," she said dryly. She realised she was being nasty, but the episode had shaken her more than she cared to admit. The man didn't say anything as he walked back to his own cot. He extinguished the light a moment later, leaving them both to lie stiffly in the dark until dawn finally arrived.